


is it cool that i said all that?

by brandflakeeee



Series: the world is quiet here [1]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Because I needed it, F/M, Gen, we all needed it, you needed it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 22:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandflakeeee/pseuds/brandflakeeee
Summary: “We’re partners, Jacques Snicket. I want to protect them too.”In which Olivia Caliban is given a future she never imagined. Most girls dream of knights in shining armor. She dreams of a handsome man hitting her with a taxi one fateful afternoon.





	is it cool that i said all that?

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my head since mid-way through 'will you catch me if i fall' so I hope you enjoy. Embedded toward the bottom for your viewing pleasure is what I imagine the Snicket house to look like, or at least it's basis. I've made a few tweaks in my head that will be referenced in this fic and others.
> 
> Soon I'll be updating my tumblr and posting the link here so you can follow me there for insights and other related images to this fic and others! Plus the other fandoms I write/follow.
> 
> Also, title is from Taylor Swift's 'Delicate'.

The Snicket home had been passed down through the family for generations, taken care of and maintained by a number of descendants in it’s lengthy existence. Most of the city knew it as the Snicket house in name for so long had the family traditionally resided there. It’s exterior was in relatively good shape, a faded brick outlining architecture distinctly somewhere along the lines of English-Tudor style. It sat away from the road, a gravel path leading the way through a grove of trees that kept it relatively private and quiet, in a bubble all it’s own despite the noise of the city beyond. Large windows offered views of a stretch of landscape kept immaculately gardened – or had been, at one point.

While the house exterior remained unchanged, the gardens around it had grown over, bushes growing beyond control and flowers spreading far beyond the boundaries of their beds. Weeds sprung up between them, uncontrolled and wild. It had not seen care in some time, clearly.

Inside was much like the garden, wholly untouched in a long age. White sheets covered the larger pieces of furniture inside every room, and every available surface had a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs gathered in the corners, their spider residents long fled.

Quite frankly, it was the most lovely place Olivia Caliban had ever seen.

That first day she’d only been able to stare up at the house, entranced, wondering exactly why it had been abandoned. The Quagmires had stood with her until Jacques gave them permission to find rooms to claim for themselves; then it had been he and Olivia left in the dust of the gravel path.

“It wasn’t originally meant to go to me.” Jacques explained, staring up at the exterior of the home with a mixed expression. “Kit didn’t want it. Lemony didn’t either. But I didn’t want it to go up for sale, so I took it.”

“But you don’t live here?” Olivia supplied, and Jacques shook his head.

“Not in a while, since we all left home. I couldn’t; too many memories attached. My work with the organization kept me away at any rate. I couldn’t fathom keeping up with a house this large on my own and be away most of the time.”

It was certainly the nicest place Olivia had ever stayed.

“And now?”

“I think it deserves new memories.”

Jacques smiled then, and Olivia wrapped her arm in his and together they crossed the drive into the house. She could hear the triplets upstairs exploring with distant footsteps on worn wood. Jacques was already beginning to pull sheets away from the furniture in the next room, however, so Olivia joined him. Dust kicked into the air as they worked to clear most of the ground floor of it’s ghostly looking drapes, and Olivia was surprised to find the electricity still worked when she flipped on a switch to provide light in the hall closet she had unceremoniously dumped the once-white linens until they could be washed.

“There’s a formal and informal living area, large kitchen, dining room, all the usual.” Jacques led her through, and she was struck how warm and inviting the place seemed to be, despite the inhabitants missing. Just a bit of dusting and everything would be right as rain. The Snickets certainly had an excellent taste in all things decorative, including the beautiful paintings she could have inspected for hours. Jacques kept his hand firmly in hers, however, as if to prevent her from doing just that. Not that Olivia minded; it was good to have him close, reminding her that every bit of this was real.

Olaf was dead.

Some darker part of her hoped he suffered for the damage he’d caused and the trauma done. The kinder part hoped as well, though slightly less.

Still, there was a soft freedom they had all gained with his death, and for once Olivia found herself looking very forward to the future. Both near and distant. As long as she had Jacques, things would turn out all right. The Quagmires had simply been an added bonus, and with the Baudelaires just down the street Olivia felt as if she’d joined a rather large family, something she hadn’t had before meeting Jacques Snicket.

 _This is the happiest I’ve ever been_.

 Prufrock had been no easy feat to survive there as long as she had, but the books had kept her company. Now she had four others who desired her company, and Olivia found herself very much attached to each of them. How strange and quick things had seemed, but that was her life now. Fast paced, dangerous, and full of Snickets, as Beatrice had put it only days ago. The Baudelaires were starting their own building of their new home, and to start it off Jacques and Olivia had stood beside Beatrice and Lemony as their witnesses when they’d suddenly run off to city hall two days prior.

Olivia was eager to build her own home here, with Jacques, Isadora, Duncan, and Quigley. The Quagmires deserved much after their ordeals, and she was determined to make sure they got everything they could ever want. Especially love, compassion, and guardians who cared for them, not their wealth.

“Jacques, this house is amazing.” Quigley said, as he and his siblings found the pair of them in the informal living space pulling sheets from the sofas.

“It looks like it’s out of a storybook.” Isadora mused brightly. “Does it have any secret passages?”

“That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?” Jacques grinned back at the three of them in the doorway, and Olivia felt herself immediately worry for their well-being. Secret passages sounded far too unsafe. Then again, she reminded, the Quagmires had she and Jacques and a whole organization to keep them safe. Secret passages in an old house seemed only like another great adventure.

The triplets joined them in their furious cleaning spree, and Olivia found it went by far better with them working together. Surfaces were dusted, linens dragged out of the way, and soon the home began to look far more livable. Olivia discovered many things: an old grandfather clock that still miraculously kept the time, an out of tune piano that she would have to remind herself to get fixed, and even an old gramophone with a display of records.

“My parents were very fond of collecting things from their travels.” Jacques said when he noticed Olivia had caught sight of it. “I don’t know if it still works, but it needs a good clean. I imagine you could grow an entire field of potatoes from the dust gathered in this place.”

Olivia laughed, bright and true. With events of the past few weeks that had weighed so heavily on her, it was the first time she had truly laughed in some time. It felt even more freeing than she could have imagined, and when she met Jacques gaze again he was smiling broadly, too.

“Jacques, is this you?” Duncan asked from across the room, pointing to a series of tarnished picture frames along the wall. Olivia and Jacques joined them. In the photo Duncan was pointing out, three very familiar, albeit very much younger faced peered back with toothless grins and bright eyes.

“You were adorable!” Olivia cooed, much to the chagrin of Jacques. “Oh, you three were precious. You look very much like your father from the painting in the hall.”

“You grew up here, didn’t you?” Isadora asked, crowding in with her brothers and the two adults examining the photos.

“I did, yes.” Jacques said, clearing his throat quietly. “It was my favorite place in the world, this house. Felt like nothing bad could happen here.”

“Nothing bad will ever happen here.” Olivia said suddenly with a soft conviction. “This is a safe place. This house. We’re protected here. You’re protected here, Quagmires. I promise you that.”

The three looked positively near tears for a moment (mostly Isadora). Not quite the reaction she’d meant, but as Duncan hugged her fiercely and tightly the next instant, she felt more at ease. The triplets deserved safety and love, as much as she and Jacques could provide for them. They deserved to finally be kids, to run and play and worry about things that were not adults trying to kill them or kidnap them or steal away their money. Olivia couldn’t turn back the clock to return their parents to them, but she was fiercely determined to be as much of the next best thing as she could be.

“Who’s hungry?” Jacques spoke up moments later, and Duncan released her immediately and turned a soft shade of red. She only smiled gently.

“Not to play devil’s advocate, but if there’s any food in your kitchen I daresay it’s very, _very_ expired.” Quigley said, and Jacques’ brows knitted together.

“If you three can find the take away menus still in the kitchen, how does pizza sound?” He replied, satisfied when the three went off again to seek out abandoned take away menus and likely sort out what toppings would suit everyone without ordering a pizza each – though Olivia knew Jacques would order them each a pizza of their own if he knew they wanted it.

Olivia had seen the way he’d looked at them, with as much fierce protectiveness and adoration in his eyes as she felt herself. She still recalled how cautiously he’d brought up the idea at first before the Quagmires had been rescued.

_“I was thinking of taking them in myself.”_

_“The Quagmires? You’d be their guardian?”_

_“I don’t want to see them split up again.”_

_“Where do I sign?”_

_“Olivia—”_

_“We’re partners, Jacques Snicket. I want to protect them too.”_

_“I don’t know what I did to deserve a woman like you, Olivia Caliban.”_

Olivia made to follow the triplets, but Jacques caught her arm. She frowned.

“I have something to show you.” He said as only explanation before guiding her from the room. The hall was dim in the fading sunlight of the evening, but thankfully the lights there still worked – some, at least. Some of the bulbs had blew immediately when they’d flared to life for the first time in ages.

“Are you okay, being back here?” Olivia asked as they walked.

“It will take time to get used to again. But I’m glad to see life in this place again. It never sat well with me to leave it so empty for so long.”

“A few more days and we’ll have this place sparkling top to bottom.”

Jacques led her to a door she hadn’t seen, intricate carvings scrawled along the edges in a language and symbols she couldn’t quite understand. She met his almost eager gaze and he gestured for her to proceed. Bravely, Olivia did.

She stopped in the doorway as the room revealed itself, and Olivia swore she felt herself fall more madly in love with the man a step and a half behind her.

The room itself was a grand library, shelves on this floor and the next with spiral staircases leading upward at the corners. Large windows overlooked the overgrown gardens, and there was a desk and chairs hidden beneath another large sheet. The shelves were filled to the brim with books both old, older, and oldest that she could see. Attention to detail was clear, the same markings from the door curling into the bookcases and around the window trim.

“Headquarters based their library from this one.” Jacques murmured from behind her. Olivia proceeded further into the room. Sofas under two more linens, another scattering of armchairs; it was quite massive, she surmised. Her heart swelled at being allowed in to such a place. It was large, but still felt warm and inviting and cozy, perfectly prime for avid readers such as herself. There were also artifacts and small treasures littered around on display, more from what Olivia assumed were the travels of various Snickets throughout the years. Maps, navigation aids, found treasures, all of it seemed to be here in this perfect room.

“Do you like it?”

That was certainly the most stupid question Jacques had ever asked her. She whirled and immediately threw her arms around him, kissing him fiercely. He seemed utterly surprised by her sudden boldness, but responded in kind with his hands at her waist and his lips moving against her own.

When she was certain her lungs might burst, Olivia drew away with a bright sparkle to her gaze.

“It’s _beautiful_. Is it really yours?”

“Ours.” He replied, and Olivia melted a bit further into the floor. He released her, but kept hold of her hand once more as she ventured further into the space, her gaze caught by the large, rather worn looking tapestry hanging on a sliver of available wall space not covered by shelves.

A rather large tree was depicted, and in the twining branches of leaves she could see names written in once golden thread. It was fraying in areas, fibers pulling away from their home, but as Olivia drew closer she could see great care had been taken to patch up other spots.

“Our family tree.” Jacques supplied from beside her, staring at the woven history. Snickets upon Snickets upon Snickets stretched out across each branch; Olivia reached out to delicately trace the lines with her fingers, following the names as they filtered through the leaves.

“Your family uses a very strang naming system.” She commented, noting the pattern. ABC. DEF. GHI. “Jacques, Kit, and Lemony.”

“Snickets are strange in their ways.” Jacques agreed. “I think Kit intends to break it, Lemony unknowingly already did. Suppose it’ll be up to me if I want to keep it.”

“M, N, and O names can be quite pretty.” Olivia breathed gently, fingers pausing as she traced the letters of Jacques’ name in the golden thread. She didn’t dare assume, but she could already imagine some quite fine names to be added to the tapestry; children with dark eyes and soft faces and brought up in a home surrounded by love and books.

She wasn’t certain how long they stood in silence together, staring at the names and the dates until she dared speak.

“What happened to your parents?” She asked softly, following the line from his name up to _Jacob and Emily Snicket._

“A fire.” He replied. She’d never learned so much about Jacques history as he’d seemed to always ask about her own. She knew it rife with tragedy, his past, and that he didn’t quite like to talk about it. Now seemed to be an exception. How it always seemed to be with a fire.

“Not here, surely?”

“No. Their car. They were driving home from the theatre.”

“Oh.”

Olivia’s gaze traced the line further up to _Charles and Violet Snicket._ She paused.

“Beatrice knew.” Jacques seemed to know what she was thinking. “She used to come here all the time when we were all young. Before and after V.F.D. dragged us out of our homes to be a part of something greater. I never thought much of it, the name. Not until now.”

Olivia frowned, fingers tracing the edges of _Violet’s_ name.

“Dragged you out of your homes?”

“It’s how the organization usually recruits new members. Granted they’re usually children of current or former members, or some relation to someone already in the organization itself. Sometimes they venture out and drag in strangers. My father was quite upset when Kit, Lemony and myself all disappeared the same night, along with Beatrice down the street and Olaf across the city.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“We had an inkling of an idea that something might happen. We slept together in the same room that night.” Jacques continued, not looking at her. He paused, lips twitching. “It was certainly a far scarier way than almost hitting someone with a taxi in the midst of a street.”

“I don’t know, I’d call that rather frightening.” Olivia softened, pressing herself against his side. “I’d have been upset had you dragged me out of my bed in the middle of the night.”

“I would never.” Jacques pressed a kiss to the top of her head then, arm around her waist tightening briefly. He’d seemed to have enough explaining family histories, and Olivia took note. She still had more questions, would always have more questions, and vaguely she wondered if any of the books in the room could answer some of them. More than likely. She was eager to study them, to stroke their spines and scan the pages for every bit of information.

“There are some first editions I think you’ll like. History books. Some nonsense. Poetry. Fiction and non. The ordering system is a bit strange, but easy to sort it out. I think there might be information on the organization in some of them, but it’ll all coded; I’ll have to teach you.” He explained as they circled the room, landing on a window seat that overlooked the overgrown gardens. Olivia’s gaze traveled the paths that traced through the bushes and flower beds, mentally making another note to look up a gardener. She could tend to the plants herself, but she had a terrible green thumb and even if she managed, the grounds were larger a task than she could manage on her own.

“Olivia.”

Jacques’ voice, the seriousness of it, drew her attention back to him immediately. His brow was furrowed, hands in his lap, and Olivia took them up in her own.

“What’s wrong?”

He was quiet for a moment; she could see the inner debate he seemed to be having with himself, though the details remained a guarded secret she desperately wanted to pry out of him.

“What did you intend, when you said partners? When I told you about my wanting guardianship of the Quagmires?”

The question was unexpected, and Olivia pondered it a long second.

“You recruited me. We scaled a building, rescued the Baudelaire children. I nursed you back to health and you made me see the world in an entirely different light, Jacques Snicket. I can’t imagine not having you by my side. _You let me drive your taxi._ Partners, through and through. I meant it. I’ll always mean it.”

“You’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met, Olivia Caliban.” He murmured, lifting a hand to cup her face. She smiled, blushing faintly. Her relationships prior to being nearly hit by a taxi in the midst of the street had been zero. Not many men looked twice at librarians, much less wanted to strike up a conversation. Jacques made her feel wanted, loved, and each time he kissed her she felt utterly thrilled that someone like him had bothered a second glance at a strange librarian.

“Marry me.”

Olivia nearly seized on the spot.

“Excuse me?”

“I want to fill this house with memories. _Our_ memories. Partners in crime and in life. I’d buy you a thousand libraries in a thousand cities if you wanted. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, and now I can’t imagine a moment longer without you by my side. I know we’ve known each other not very long, and I promise you this isn’t something rash or not-thought out. I’ve thought it since the day after we rescued the Baudelaires. You nursing my health back. Helping me, helping Lemony, helping Beatrice. I remember seeing you in that dress, the night we went to the theatre. Coming up those steps to you – I wanted to call you _my wife_. I know our lives will never be normal, but I promise to fight by your side with anything that comes this way. You deserve as much happiness as you seemed determined to give those kids, and I think I would be very remiss in my duties by not addressing that. You’re brilliant. We’re brilliant together. Even parenting three very clever triplets who I _know_ are definitely _not_ listening on the other side of the door _right_ this second.”

There was a loud thud, and then the sound of running footsteps and giggling from the closed door of the library. Olivia chuckled, giving a watery smile – when had she started crying? Oh, bother. She wiped furiously at her face with the back of her hand, meeting Jacques’ gaze again.

“Besides, I can’t fathom trying to take care of this library all on my own.”

Olivia’s grin broadened, and Jacques used the hand at her cheek to brush away another tear at the corner of her eye. His other hand dug in the pocket of his jacket, producing a silver ring with shining opals as the gems.

“It was my mother’s. I’ve been carrying it around since the night after the theatre, trying to find a way to ask. “

“On one condition.” She managed, and Jacques brow arched.

“Name it. It’s yours.”

“That we fight together.” She whispered. “Whatever comes this way. We’re equals.” A pause. “And our children will not be dragged out of their beds in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll swear it on every book in this library.”

Olivia laughed.

“Then my answer is a very resounding _yes_.”

Jacques gathered her immediately into his arms, kissing her with a fierce passion she didn’t know possible. She melted against him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw and neck and feeling very much as if a piece of something slotted into place in her heart. A puzzle piece, his name written in golden thread along the surface.

She let him adorn her with the ring, admiring it’s beauty in the fading sunlight. She couldn’t help the soft laughter that bubbled forth, unbelieving and stunned that a man named Jacques Snicket had chosen her, quiet Olivia Caliban, to spend his life with. A life was a very long time. He pressed his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes at the intimate gesture. She breathed him in, committing this scene to memory forever and a day.

There was no one else she’d rather share a library (and a taxi) with.

“We should probably go and find the children.” Olivia whispered. “You promised them pizza.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“They’ll order it on their own if we do.”

“Let them.”

“Isadora told me she likes pineapple on it.”

“Not on _my_ pizza!” Jacques stood suddenly, and Olivia fell into another fit of laughter as he darted from the room. A moment passed, and his head appeared around the corner of the doorway.

“What pizza shall I order for my future wife? If you say pineapple, I _might_ pre-divorce you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Hated it? Let me know!


End file.
